


Star-Crossed

by InitialA



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Sailor Moon, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, F/M, Gift Fic, IN SPACE!, Star-crossed, Superheroes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 15:26:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5502860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InitialA/pseuds/InitialA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Long ago, a prince from the southern stars fell in love with a princess from the northern skies...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Star-Crossed

**Author's Note:**

> This is a CS Secret Santa gift-fic for summonerserahheart. It does quite heavily rely on you already knowing how the mythos of the Sailor Moon universe works, but if you're into that please feel free to keep reading.

8:15am. Hot cocoa with a shot of espresso, whipped cream, extra cinnamon on top. The greenest eyes and loveliest blonde hair he's ever seen, paired with the sharpest temper and least amount of vulnerability he's ever encountered with anyone.

He's head-over-heels for this woman who tells him to write Swan on her cup almost every morning.

And he knows she's not for him.

Not when he dreams of a princess cloaked in starlight every night. Not when this princess has cried for him every single night for years, her tears sparkling as they fall down her face - the face that he's never been able to discern any distinguishable features on. Not when his ears are filled with the voice his heart longs to hear more of, anything other than calling his name and pleading for his help. Not when the pull of finding her, helping her at long last and solving the mystery of his own past, drew him across the pond from London to set up his shop in Boston.

No, he's not destined for the grumpy Swan in his coffee shop. But he's a man, after all, and he takes notice.

He notices when she shows up with a black eye. (She always waves off his concern. "Self-defense class." "Perp got a little handsy last night." "My cat Henry knocked something off a shelf, he's trying to kill me.") He notices when she's grumpier than usual, more from weariness than aggravation with him. ("Stakeout," she usually says. It doesn't take him long to figure out she's a cop of sorts.) He notices when she comes in with more sadness than usual. He notices when she doesn't come in at all.

He tries not to notice. He has enough to occupy his mind, after all.

After another fruitless night of searching for the Crystal, Killian prays the morning rush finds itself at Dunkin' Donuts or some other chain coffee shop. He can't really afford to lose the business, but weariness drags at his bones and he can't quite bring himself to care about sales. He mostly bides his time, waiting for his assistant manager to get out of class. She can take over being cheerful and helpful to customers while he kips on the couch in his office.

The bell over the door rings. Killian's eyes slide to the clock: 8:15. "Morning, Swan," he says, trying not to punctuate the greeting with a yawn.

"You look like hell," she says, but the bags under her eyes tell him she's no better off.

He still has to fight off the urge to smile; hell or no, she's still lovely to behold. "Aye, late night. Henry giving you problems again? Late-night catnip antics?"

Swan shakes her head as he goes about making her usual. She's never varied, not in all the time she's been coming into his little shop, so he doesn't take her order and she doesn't correct him. "No, spent half the night chasing a damn jewel thief halfway across town," she mumbles, resting her head on the counter. "Asshole got away."

Killian's hand freezes over the whipped cream. She can't be talking about him. No, surely there are other jewel thieves in Boston. There were no police on his tail last night, no one knew he was in and out of that suspicious little shop, no one except -

No. It's not possible. Absurd.

He shakes his head, grabbing the canister and spreading a liberal amount of whipped cream over her cocoa. "Bad luck, Swan. You'll catch him next time."

She smiles as she lifts her head, humming happily as the scent of cinnamon hits her nose. "I hope so. I've been tailing him for months."

If his smile is forced, Swan doesn't mention it. She sighs happily as she takes her cup and sips at it. "You're a godsend, Jones, seriously."

She digs in her pocket for her wallet but he waves her off. "On the house today, love."

Swan looks up sharply, immediately suspicious. "What's the catch?"

Killian chuckles, leaning forward on his elbows. "Worry not for your virtue, Swan, I'm just feeling generous today."

The suspicion doesn't fade from her face, but she attempts a smile anyway. "Well… thanks. For the cocoa and the generosity."

"Think nothing of it, love."

She lingers for a moment, then slowly takes a step back towards the door. Her smile becomes a little more genuine as she lifts her hand in farewell, then she ducks out into the chilly November air.

Killian sighs, raking his fingers through his hair before moving to clean up. There's no way Swan is the sailor guardian he's been clashing with for months. For one thing, she's… And then there's… He pauses mid-scrub, soap dripping from his hands as he realizes he can't quite picture Sailor Cygnus' face or hear her voice. The moment he tries to pick something specific, it's like it melts between his fingers or slips just out of sight. He knows she exists - he's met her at almost every turn for almost a year now, chasing the same end goal, the Crystal - but right now it's like she's a ghost.

An extraordinarily _annoying_ ghost, with too much power at her fingertips and one too many speeches about doing things the right way for his liking. But a ghost all the same.

He wants to rub his eyes, pinch his nose, scratch that spot he favors under his ear, but he's up to his elbows in soap and he's sure he's just tired. That's it, the lack of sleep is to blame for his faulty memory. Ariel will come in and he'll have a nap in the back and everything will be ship shape.

* * *

 

He's halfway through a diamond safe when he feels the pull.

His powers are extraordinarily limited: he can heal small wounds, slip through the highest security tech without detection, tell a true gemstone from a fake - and he assumes this ability will tell him when he's found his Crystal at long last - and he knows when Sailor Cygnus is in danger.

This last power has been a thorn in his side since she showed up. He resists it, truly he does, but the longer he waits the more the pull becomes a pain. It builds in his gut, flowing along some invisible line up and out across his chest like some phantom sword has attacked him. Once, about a month or so after their first encounter, Killian ignored the pull so long that he blacked out and woke up in time to roll out of the way of a monster's assault. Sailor Cygnus ended up saving _him_.

She hadn't let him live that down for a while.

With a sigh, Killian casts his power out around him in a half-circle; it's a ruddy waste of magic, raw and unfocused as it is, but he's in a hurry. The stones sing back to him, their tones varying depending on if they were hewn from the earth or lab-grown or mere glass. There's always a tone he's listening for, the song of the Crystal - he hasn't heard it yet, but his gut tells him he'll know it when it happens.

He has to, or this will all have been for naught.

He slips out as easily as he went in, jumping over rooftops and following the magical pull towards Sailor Cygnus and whatever beastie the evil queen has sent after the Crystal tonight.

More than once in recent months, he's wondered if he should just wait, just sit at home until he feels the pull. With three parties searching for the same object - himself, the Sailor Guardians, and Queen Regina - it would make more sense to eliminate more targets. But, more often than not he's found that the Guardians or the Queen's forces seem to be one step ahead of him. There's always a tidbit he misses, a piece of the puzzle they get before him, and it's an endless, maddening frenzy to catch up.

"Princess!"

_Her_ , for example.

Killian swoops in, gathering their princess in his arms and rolling out of the way of a blast. His arm stings - not fast enough to escape a singeing. Sailor Corona Borealis glares at him as she wrests herself free. "I had it," she snaps, her tiara sparkling in the moonlight.

"Aye, princess, just a few more moments and we would have had barbecued royalty for supper," he agrees.

She huffs, unwrapping the long chain from around her waist. "You're not here to protect _me_ , Pyxis. Don't get in my way."

And then she's gone, shouting her assault and lassoing the Queen's monster of the day.

She's right, he knows this. His gaze shifts to Sailor Cygnus; there's a frown on her face as she quickly glances away from him. That's curious. He's unsure if she's upset that he did her job or if there's something else. He's never felt the pull when the other guardians are in danger, only Cygnus. As she wasn't the one in immediate danger when he arrived, he'd gone where he would be most useful: keeping their princess from harm.

And despite the appearance of _their_ princess, he knows - _really_ knows, without a shadow of a doubt - that Sailor Corona Borealis is not _his_ princess. He's starting to wonder how many princesses there are if they're after the same object.

He's starting to wonder which side he's really on.

* * *

 

"Jones isn't here?"

8:15am. His heart leaps at the sound of her voice, but he's in too much pain to move. He's on the couch in his office, the burn on his arm radiating enough heat to melt his shirt right off his shoulder. It's too much for his magic, too affected, so he can only heal it in small bursts and keep it medicated the old fashioned way in the meantime. Ariel's up front handling things while he nurses his sorry arse back to full health, but the lass is too honest for his own good. "He's in the back, I can get him if you like!"

Then she's poking her head in the door and giving him that apologetic smile he sees at least six times a day and then Killian's wincing his way to his feet and out the door. "Hullo, Swan," he says as Ariel starts the cocoa.

Swan immediately zeroes in on the pained expression on his face, concern evident in her frown. "What happened?"

He tries to shrug. "Burned meself something nasty on the steamer," he says. He'd thought up the excuse sometime around hour four of a sleepless night. "Came in early to tinker with the damn thing, singed my arm in the process."

Ariel had berated him for the story he'd sold her, the alleged foolishness for messing with something that produces scalding liquid with only an undershirt to save him. Swan's frown deepens, her eyebrows furrowed. He can almost see her wheels turning as she thinks and part of him wonders what she could possibly be putting together. "Sounds dangerous," she says instead.

Ariel makes a noise of agreement as she hands over the cocoa. "He's a foolish man is what he is," she says, glaring at him again. "What idiot doesn't turn off the water supply or unplug it so he can't accidentally turn it on -"

" _Yes_ , Miss Fisher, thank you for rubbing salt into the wounds," he says.

She threatens to poke his injured arm, then goes to take care of cleanup. Swan's scrutinizing look is replaced with one of amusement. "Well, _foolish man_ , maybe don't get in over your head next time, leave it to the people who know what they're doing."

His heart skips a beat. She can't be talking about last night. "A-Aye?" he asks, internally wincing at his stutter.

She gives him a look over the rim of her cup. "Call a mechanic or whatever?" she asks slowly.

Killian tries not to sag in relief. The ruse, right. He's taken too many pain relievers; Swan doesn't know about his nighttime excursions or the truth of his injury.

She can't know. It's not possible.

* * *

 

"We have to stop meeting like this, Sailor Cygnus," he says gallantly, scooping her up and away from the demon's blow.

She struggles, green eyes snapping up to his face. "What the hell? I thought you were down for the count!"

He grins. "Darling, you wound me. Well, not literally, that was your princess' fault -"

"I _will_ wound you if you don't put me down -"

He does, but not until they're safely out of range. The other guardians have the demon boxed in for now so he doesn't feel guilty about keeping her away from the main fight - their princess is a strong one, with three guardians to protect her. Killian points to his arm. "Healed up fine days ago, love. I'm touched at your concern, but I'm afraid you're stuck with me."

Cygnus narrows her eyes, her gaze flicking between his arm and his face. He recognizes it instantly as her trying to decide if he's lying or not. After a moment, she scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest and looking away. "You're impossible."

"Is that any way to say thank -"

He gets cut off when she gasps, tackling him to the ground in her next breath. It's a close call - an energy blast takes out half the side of the building next to them. Killian wheezes for a moment, the wind knocked from him and his head aching from being slammed against the rooftop. Sense is slow to return; the first thing he notices is Cygnus on top of him, her body curled around his to act as a shield. Her head is tucked into the crook of his neck, her hair covering his face and tickling his nose. It takes another moment for him to fully realize that she's very warm, pressed up against him as she is, and she's clearly trembling. "Thanks, now we're even," Cygnus says, lifting her head and releasing a shaking breath.

She's flushed and he realizes there are only scant inches separating their faces. He doesn't know if it's their close proximity or the adrenaline that has her so flustered, but he's overwhelmed with the urge to close the gap between them and catch her plump lips with his.

"Cygnus -"

She stops his hand as he tries to touch her arm. "I'm fine," she says, but the unsteadiness of her voice betrays the truth. "I have a monster to kill."

"Aye."

He averts his eyes as she gets to her feet; even with the yellow petticoat, her red skirt is short enough when he's standing, let alone at a level to see everything it tries to cover. For all he's having some very _un_ gentlemanly thoughts, he is a gentleman thief. A wand appears in her hand as Killian gets to his feet, finely wrought gold and topped with stars. She glances back. "Just stay out of the way, okay?" she asks.

"Why, worried about me?" he asks.

Her lips purse, brow furrowed in a way that niggles at a memory he can't quite place. She seems familiar tonight, more so than usual. "I'd just hate to see something happen to you," she says finally, then leaps out into the night, a battle cry on her lips.

* * *

 

She doesn't come in for a full week.

He tries not to notice the absence of his 8:15 Swan, but he's already well aware he's in deep with her. He tries not to wonder what's kept her away - work or family or if something's happened - but even Ariel comments on his black mood on Friday. "Honestly, if it's the Christmas decorations, I can take them down," she snaps, whipping a damp rag over the sink - the closest to a rage he's ever seen from her.

"No, lass, it's not - they're fine," he says with a sigh, before excusing himself to do the inventory.

It's true that Christmas isn't his favorite time of year - marking the accident that had claimed his family's lives and his memories. But he's made a begrudging peace with it, allowing Ariel to decorate to her heart's content and mostly trying to ignore it the rest of the time. He allows himself to smile at the wondrous looks on children's faces as they take in the sights, allows himself to grieve for a family he can hardly remember, and tries not to numb the pain with rum.

It's difficult to be a gentleman thief while sodding drunk.

Saturday morning comes as it does every week and with it comes the chime of the bell over the door at 8:15. Killian look up, his traitorous heart skipping a beat as Swan ducks into the shop, brushing snow from the top of her head. "Thought you'd flown south for the winter, Swan," he calls as she stamps her boots on the mat.

She looks up, bewildered for a moment, then scoffs as she realizes what he meant, rolling her eyes. "Very funny."

He gives her his most charming grin as she walks up to the counter. "Come now, love, I can only work with what I've been given."

She smiles wryly. "Yeah, yeah."

As she settles her hands on the counter, he notices it: a cast covering her left hand and disappearing into her coat. His heart stutters again, for a different reason this time. "Swan, what happened?" he asks softly.

She follows his gaze down, then grimaces. "Ice under my car. Of all the stupid shit I do, I break my wrist getting out of my car." He winces in sympathy. She sighs. "Henry gave me all sorts of crap about it," she mutters.

Killian raises an eyebrow at the curious statement. "I thought Henry was your cat."

Perhaps it's just the flush from being out in the cold and then coming into his warm shop, but her cheeks seem redder than usual. "Yeah. He is. I mean," she stumbles over her words a bit, "you know how cats can get when they don't get what they want, and he's a bear for ear scritches. Hasn't quite figured out that my usual petting hand isn't up to snuff."

He nods, hoping he's understood her correctly. Perhaps whatever medication they gave her for the pain has fogged up her mind, confusing her words. "Here, love, go have a seat, I'll bring it out to you."

"Jones -"

He cuts off her protest with a wave of his hand and she glares at him. The look is so familiar it's almost comical, but Killian's struck with a sense of deja vu. For a moment there are pearl ornaments in her hair and earrings that shine like starlight in her ears, then it's gone. He gives himself a little shake; she seems not to have noticed, going to one of his little tables by the window.

He watches her surreptitiously as he makes her usual cocoa. There's no one else in the shop but her, so he makes himself a cup as well and goes to join her. "You've gone all out on decorations," she observes, taking her cup from him.

"My assistant. She's very enthusiastic," he says with a slight shrug.

"Don't care for the holiday either?"

Killian watches her over the rim of his cup, curious at her use of the word 'either'. Swan meets his gaze squarely. He tips his cup in her direction, a mocking toast. "To the most wonderful time of the year, Swan," he says sardonically.

One corner of her mouth lifts as she toasts him in return. "To you as well, Jones," she says, knocking back a swig. "And it's Emma." At his curious head tilt, she grins. "My name's Emma Swan."

He holds out his hand and after a long moment she takes it. He winks at her confused look, bringing her knuckles to his lips. Her cheeks color again as her eyes widen, watching him brush a kiss against her hand and linger for perhaps a moment longer than necessary. " _Enchanté_ , Emma Swan," he says softly.

Emma all but yanks her hand back, her cheeks still red. She doesn't look away though, as if matching his stare is an act of defiance, that he hasn't gotten under her skin. But as he watches the red travel up to her ears and down the long expanse of her throat, he thinks perhaps he's gotten to her after all.

* * *

 

It's not until he has her in his arms that he notices.

Her left arm is in a cast.

Killian almost drops Sailor Cygnus in shock, but manages to hold on until they're safely out of range. The monster this week seems to be more limited in ability than previous ones, something he won't be complaining about. Not when he has a hundred questions and doesn't intend on letting Cygnus out of his sight until she answers them. "You arm is broken," he says after he's set her down.

She flushes and it's so familiar now he wonders if he's a fool for not seeing it before. The green of her eyes, dark now with only the moonlight reflecting off the snow to see by - he's been yearning after those eyes for months. "Yeah, what about it? Arms break. Some of us aren't weirdos who heal from demon attacks in a week," she says, her voice a challenge he doesn't know whether to rise to or back down from.

"That wasn't a monster that did that to you," he says, anger flaring under his breastbone. Now she's lying to him, trying to throw him off her scent. Does she know who he is? Has she always known? Did she figure it out when his arm was hurt? "I know a monster didn't do that to you because I would have been there to stop it!"

Her mouth sets in a hard line. Again, the familiarity. He's a moron of the first order, truly, or something else is at work here that's kept the wool over his eyes for a year. Emma Swan sweeps a lock of hair over her shoulder, revealing her starlight earrings. "You can't always be here to save my ass, Pyxis. That tuxedo's gotta go in for dry cleaning sometime, right?"

"I don't think you understand, love," he bites out. "I can't stay out of it."

"Of course you can."

"No, I _can't_. I tried, once, early in our acquaintance, when you were nothing more than an annoying thorn in my side," he says. He's agitated enough that he has to move, pacing a little to work out his irritation. "Whatever magic that's bewitched me to you got so upset with me that I blacked out. You remember, surely, you didn't let go of that for weeks." She sucks in a breath, as if remembering something she'd forgotten. He can hear the other guardians below, shouting something, but he ignores them, barreling on, "So trust me, darling, I would have stopped it. So perhaps you broke your arm falling on _ice_ -"

There's a louder commotion from below - something strikes his head, causing his vision to swim. Emma's shouting something he can't hear over a roaring in his ears. His knees buckle under him and the world goes dark.

* * *

 

He wakes in a room that's not his own, with a tortoiseshell cat blinking down at him. The cat's eyes are oddly intelligent. "You're alive," the cat says. He sounds young, teenaged at most. Killian can't begin to wonder how he's rationally deciphering the apparent age of a talking cat, but then again he's experienced a lot of strange things in his life over the last year. The cat pads down the bed, curling up on one of Killian's legs. "Good. They didn't get you here easily, the least you could have done was not die on her."

"Apologies for the trouble, Master Cat," Killian mumbles, his tongue thick from lack of use or water.

"Henry. And it's not me you have to apologize to. She's been worried sick," the cat says.

_Henry_. Things click into place as he props himself up on his elbows. Henry is Emma's cat, her _talking_ cat. She's Sailor Cygnus, he's a bloody moron, and he's pretty sure she knows his identity now too. Just as that sorts itself out, the door opens and Emma walks in, holding a tray. "I thought I heard Henry talking to someone," she says softly.

She sets the tray down on the bedside table, handing him the cup. He drinks gratefully, handing it back empty. Emma sits on the edge of the bed, looking pensive. He looks everywhere but her face. Henry makes an annoyed cat noise and gets up, stretching. "When you two figure out how to speak again, I suggest you talk about this. If nothing else, we can figure out if Ruby's right to want to kill him."

"What?" Killian asks, looking at the cat sharply.

Henry's tail flicks. "We've been wondering which side you're on for a long time, Tuxedo Pyxis. Your star system is too close to Vela - Queen Regina - for comfort."

"And so is Belle, but we don't question her," Emma snaps.

Henry's tail flicks again. "Belle's proven her allegiance over and over. He, on the other hand, has been after the Jade Crystal for a lot longer than we have -"

"- and saving all of us in some way or other since I started this idiocy. _Out_ , Henry." Emma points to the door.

Contrary as any other cat, Henry washes his face briefly, then stretches languidly before finally leaving the room. Emma sighs. "How long have you known?" she asks quietly.

Killian shakes his head. "I just put it together when I saw the cast, Emma, I swear. I'd been having odd flashes of something, but I didn't realize it until -"

He drifts off, realizing he doesn't exactly know how long it's been since he was last conscious. Emma smiles a bit. "Last night. We got you back to my place, it was closest. Mary Margaret and Ruby weren't too thrilled, but Belle and Elsa convinced them."

"The other guardians, then? Friends of yours?"

She shrugs. "I guess you could call us friends now. It's weird, being forced together by some destiny or whatever, but I like them."

He nods. He's seen how well they work together. "And you?" he asks. "How long have you known?"

"I thought it was weird that your arm was hurt in the same place, but I didn't realize until last night either. You must have the same magic we do, Henry says it's some kind of cloaking magic."

Killian nods. "Every time I tried to picture you - Sailor Cygnus, that is - it's like you slipped right out of my memory. I knew you existed, but the details were gone."

"I just knew some annoying British asshole kept trying to be a big damn hero and getting himself hurt in the process."

He snorts. "As I told your princess, a few moments longer in some of those cases and you'd be barbecue."

Emma actually smiles. "Yeah, Elsa mentioned something about that. She's annoyed with you, but not enough to actually do anything about it."

_Elsa_. The name doesn't ring a bell, but he supposes he knew it wouldn't. She's their princess, not his. Though he can't help but wonder if they might know where he could find his princess. They've been adept at finding almost everything else first, these sailor guardians. "You wouldn't…" He pauses. Emma watches him curiously. "I've been looking for the Crystal," he says. "You know this. I don't know if I'm on your side, but I think - I think I'm against Regina."

"You think?"

He shrugs. "None of her generals have contacted me or made any recognition. The demons attack me just as much as they attack you. But I don't know if that means I'm on your side or someone else."

Emma's brow furrows. "Who else would there be?"

"My princess."

She blinks slowly. Quietly, he explains about the car crash that had claimed his parents lives, his brother's life, when he was only ten; how he doesn't remember anything before that, doesn't even know if Killian Jones is his true name or if the doctors were telling the truth of why he woke up in hospital with a blank slate and bandages around his head. He explains about the dreams that have plagued him for fifteen years, the princess without a face or a name whom he played with as a child, the princess who grew into a weeping woman cloaked by the stars who pled for the Jade Crystal, pled for her freedom. He talks until his voice gives out and Emma goes to get him more water. She watches him as he drinks, her free hand covering her casted one. "That's quite the story," she says finally.

"Aye."

"So this princess - you're _sure_ she's not Elsa?" Emma asks. "Because she's the one who's supposed to command the Jade Crystal, it's all in Henry's book -"

Killian shakes his head. He can't explain it, but part of him just knows that when he finally does find his princess, something in him will recognize her immediately. Whether he'll recognize her with love or merely with his fealty, he's not yet sure. But he's certain that Elsa is not the princess he seeks.

Emma glances towards the window. Killian studies her while she thinks; he's known she was beautiful for some time, but this is his first time to take a close look. Her profile is quite regal, he realizes, with the delicate nose and high cheekbones, the long expanse of her neck - quite like her namesake, actually. Sailor Corona Borealis - Elsa - has a similar shape to her face, similar coloring. He can see why Emma would be her chief bodyguard: they look enough alike that Emma could play princess while Elsa was smuggled to safety.

"We can help you," Emma says quietly, startling him from his thoughts. "There's enough star systems that one of them has to have your princess. But why she'd want the Jade Crystal… maybe she knows Elsa's the only one who can free her."

"After you find it, of course."

She smiles. "Ah, but we've been missing a key: you have power we don't. You can help us find the Crystal, we can help you find your princess."

Killian sits back, resting against the headboard. She knows how to strike a bargain - everyone gets what they want, and, most importantly, he doubts this Ruby will want to kill him if this means he'll be out of her hair soon. He sticks out his hand. "You've got a deal, Emma Swan."

They shake on it.

* * *

 

He doesn't know how it happens.

One of Regina's generals had called them out, a showdown of sorts at the harbor. Killian had called it a trap, complete idiocy to run in without a plan, but Graham had knocked out the power for the entire Boston metropolitan area, siphoning it away for whatever foul purpose Regina had. New England at the start of winter wasn't the warmest and they needed to do whatever they could to get Graham out of the way so people didn't start to freeze to death.

Half an hour later and Sailor Crater, Sailor Lupus, Sailor Corona Borealis, and Sailor Sagitta are bruised and battered, clinging to consciousness as Sailor Cygnus prepares to go to war against Graham herself; the problem is that Graham's vanished. They know he's not gone, just hiding - recovering his strength? He'd needed quite a bit of power to take out three guardians and the princess in one blow. Killian moves between the others as quickly as he can, careful to partition out his healing power evenly while holding back some of his strength for later. "Cygnus," he calls, his heart hammering in his chest.

Emma looks like a warrior goddess, her long hair streaming behind her like a banner in the wind. She glances back after scanning the skies again for Graham's floating form - still nothing. "Killian," she says softly walking over and crouching next to him. "I need you to get Elsa to safety. Before Graham comes back, get the princess out of here, keep her safe."

"Emma, I don't have power like you do," he protests. "I can heal the others, they can keep her safe while I protect you -"

She's shaking her head and it's infuriating that she doesn't _understand_. He can take Elsa as far from here as he can manage but it won't amount to a damn thing if Emma gets in trouble. He'll feel the pull, be summoned back to her side, leaving the princess injured and on her own. He knows Elsa could handle herself at full strength, but she'd taken the brunt of the hit. He'd seen it for himself, she'd tossed herself in front of Emma like a fool, before he could even move fast enough to get to her.

Before he can argue further, Emma's surging forward and the world around them vanishes as he zeroes in on the feel of her lips against his and the soft puff of air on his cheek as she exhales. The only sounds are the clatter of her wand on the ground as she grips his lapels to pull him in closer, the little mewl at the back of her throat as he pushes back and his tongue tastes the seam of her lips. He only tastes her - the juice she'd had earlier at his shop mixed with the sweet essence that was _Emma_.

They don't have time, there's simply no time to ravish her as she deserves, as his body craves to, but there's a crack of unnatural thunder and she's pulling away. "Do as I ask," Emma says, bending to pick up her wand. "Take Elsa to safety. I'll take care of Graham."

And he tries to obey, taking the princess in his arms and ignoring her weak protests. They make it a block away before he feels the pull. Elsa notices the grimace as he leaps from rooftop to rooftop. "She's in trouble. You need to go," Elsa tells him, her voice faint.

"She told me to get you to safety," Killian protests, grunting as a sharp pain blossoms in his shoulder.

Elsa shakes her head. "She's an idiot. Go. I can handle myself, Killian."

He gets her another block away before the pain almost blinds him. He practically drops Elsa in his rush to turn around, but then there's only darkness and he feels like his throat is raw from screaming - his entire body feels like it's on fire, like his skin has been shredded from his limbs -

" _Killian! Gods, no - please, Killian, look at me -"_

"KILLIAN!"

" _Sweetheart, stay awake, keep your eyes open, don't close your eyes -"_

"God, what did I tell you, I told you to take her and _go_ -"

" _No, no, no, NO! You have to stay, you can't leave me, you promised not to leave me!"_

He feels very strange, like he's floating in two places - like he's done this before. He can hear Emma, but she sounds so different. She sounds like she's hurting, like her heart is breaking. He wants to reassure her, tell her everything's going to be fine, that she's going to be fine, but his mouth isn't working. He can't find the strength to open his eyes. Her voice is growing fainter, an echoing scream sounding so distant in his ear…

But then there is light.

His eyes are still closed but suddenly he can see - he can see the way Emma cradles his head in her lap, her sailor suit torn from her fight with Graham. He can see the tears falling from her face.

This has happened before.

He remembers it now, his family, his childhood - but he remembers the princess too. The faceless princess calling to him night after night for fifteen years.

Emma.

_She's wept for him before, an aeon ago on the other side of the galaxy, when Vela had struck him down, determined to ruin the Queen's happy ending by destroying the Princess' happiness - him. He hadn't been Killian Jones then, but Pyxis, a prince of the southern stars. He'd fallen in love with the Swan from the northern skies - Emma. Her mother, the Arrow Queen, hadn't approved, but the Cup had intervened. Sailor Crater was one of the Swan Princess' guardians and a neighboring star system to his own. They'd known one another as children, she could vouch for his worthiness._

_The Crown and the Wolf had taken longer to convince, but eventually a wedding was announced._

_Except Vela chose the wedding day to strike. The Sails were angered - he was the Compass, destined to guide her, but he'd chosen the Swan instead. The Arrow Queen should have known, should have realized her instinct was right in forbidding the match - in allowing it to happen, the Sails were without guidance and felt betrayed._

_The Sails knew the Queen must be punished, her happy ending - knowing her daughter was cherished and safe - destroyed._

_The Sails killed everyone she could reach: the guardians, the minor stars, and only managed to wound the Queen before finally turning herself loose on her lost love, the Compass. The Swan had wept over his dying body before turning a blade on herself._

_In her grief, the Arrow Queen had used the Jade Crystal to seal the Sails, separating her from her ship forever more. Her final act had been to grant them new life on the other side of the galaxy, on Earth, so that perhaps the Compass and the Swan could find one another and find happiness in their new life. Together._

"I remember…" he mumbles.

He can feel Emma's hand on his cheek. "Shh, don't try to talk," she says, her voice choked. "Just - just save your strength. You'll be alright."

He knew he was dying. Perhaps that was their fate - a prince from the southern stars and the Swan of the northern skies could never be together. He wants to reassure her, tell her it's alright to let him go again, perhaps they can try again in another life on another world, but his voice has left him once more.

He can still see her somehow, watch as her face crumples as she realizes what's about to happen. Tears stream down her face and he hears her broken " _no_ ", a chant between her sobs -

And then he hears it.

The song of the Crystal.

He _knew_ he'd recognize it when he heard it.

But the light is fading, he can't see her face anymore, hear her sobs. It's drowned out by the Crystal's song, the light tones warming his chest and making his bones hum.

_It's a peaceful song to die to_ , he thinks just before slipping into the darkness.

* * *

 

There's lips on his and warmth flooding his veins. He gasps, sucking in air, trying to sit up as his body comes back to life. Comforting hands on his shoulders keep him on his back. "Hang on, just - for God's sake, breathe like a normal person!"

_Emma_.

He opens his eyes. She's looking at him like he might vanish any moment now - relief and fear and concern all mixed into one - but she _looks_ glorious. There are stars woven through her golden hair, a bunch of them woven into a crown on her head; her dress is almost sheer, draping around her lithe form like water and sparkling with every movement. Her wrists and fingers drip with jewelry.

The Swan Princess.

_His_ princess.

Emma.

"Elsa -" he says.

"- was a ruse," Emma finishes. "While we looked for the Crystal, while our memories were locked away, only she knew the truth. She kept us - me - safe from Regina."

"And Regina?"

"Defeated - or purified, rather. She's alive and whatever possessed her is gone. She'd never - she was upset that you'd chosen me over her, but she wouldn't have killed you over it. She loved you too much."

Killian sits up. "And you believe her?"

Emma shrugs, the material of her gown rippling with the movement. "I figure once you've been run through the wringer with the most powerful source of light magic in the galaxy, you don't really have it in you to lie."

He supposes that makes sense. Emma's hands are still on his shoulders, the warmth comforting but he needs more. He grabs her around the waist and pulls her on his lap; she squeals, throwing her arms around his neck, and it's the loveliest music in all the galaxy to hear. She rests her forehead against his, eyes closed as she just breathes him in. "Sweetheart, how am I alive?" he asks quietly.

He feels her shudder. "Something - something in the Jade Crystal kept you alive. I don't know what it was. A part of it split off, I think, we saw it fall into your body, but I can't explain it. Graham took you, kidnapped you, and we've been searching for days. Henry finally locked on to a negative energy source in the north and we traveled a long way to get to you."

"And after slaying a dragon, you woke me with a kiss," he finishes.

She grins, a teasing glint in her lovely green eyes. "My own personal Sleeping Beauty."

"Oi, watch it with the beauty stuff, lass," he says, his voice low.

Emma nuzzles her nose against his. She's soft, truly the loveliest woman in the world - in the galaxy. He'd never stood a chance against her. "Yeah, yeah - what was it you said? Back when we first met? _Dashing rapscallion_ or something equally ridiculous?"

Killian cups her face with his hand, his thumb brushing the apple of her cheek. His Swan, his princess, finally his after so many years of searching. She closes her eyes, leaning into his touch. "I missed you," she whispers.

"And I you, my love," he murmurs. "I finally found you, my princess. My Swan."

"My love," she finishes, catching his lips in another kiss, this one softer than the other two they'd shared.

_Long ago, a prince from the southern stars fell in love with a princess from the north. Their love was challenged and threatened, and in the end it was indeed star-crossed. But they were granted another chance in another life to find one another and happiness once again._

_And find it they did. But that isn't to say their happily ever after was all smooth sailing. After all, a happily ever after is only the start of a new journey, one to take together._

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked it, punch the like button in the fa---wait, wrong thing. Please feel free to leave some feedback! Happy holidays!
> 
> I'm also on Tumblr as initiala.


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